“Why do you keep entering the ring?” they asked the aging boxer.
“Because outside the ring, the flowers that bloom are eaten by the deer that graze, and they are eaten by the wolves that hunt, and they are eaten from within by their fear of their young.
“Because outside the ring, in your cushioned offices and heated factories you are pummeled and ravaged by the fists of time until you are left bloodied and dead on the canvas of your life.
“Because outside the ring, the children who think they are not children play their dangerous games until one by one they are knocked to the ground by life.
“At least here I face the fist of fear with eyes open, gloriously aware of where I am, rather than get punched in the back of my head by the illusion that I am not in the ring.”